Not Pretty Enough
by xxWonderstruckxx
Summary: How could someone perfect be so imperfect? (Rating may change depending on how the story goes...)


Hello Rockers. A new story, except not Zevie, but a solo Grace King story. Haven't posted anything recently...so here's something I worked on earlier.

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Why do girls have to feel so insecure? Why do we not feel good enough? There's something inside every girl, no matter how much you want to deny it, that makes us think we're not good enough. It makes us feel jealousy towards every person for being prettier or smarter. Or is it because deep down inside of us, we feel jealous towards everyone because they are _better_ at something that you're not? Maybe that girl who never talks has more talent than you. Or your own best friend has more guys asking her out than you'll ever get in your entire lifetime. How can those people who look perfect be so perfect? How could those flawless girls who never had a bad hair day or chip a nail never seem to feel like this?

So how one of the prettiest girls in school could never shows how insecure she feels? That girl who always seems to have the best clothes and hangs out with the most popular girls in school doubts her own abilities. She doesn't want to act like she's perfect; she wants to _be_ perfect. Even if that means having dump tons of makeup on her face and wearing uncomfortable clothes. Even if that means having to take the criticism and end up crying herself to sleep every night. How could someone perfect be so imperfect?

Every day that thought comes to mind. Every day she always wonders how no one could ever see through the fake smiles and the false stupidity she puts on. She looks at herself in the mirror and sees a complete stranger. It's a girl who looks beautiful on the outside, but ugly on the inside. Her whole life seems like an act. No one knows how much she loves to read, especially _The Hunger Games_ books, or that she'd rather wear sweatpants, a shirt, and sneakers rather than frilly dresses and high heels. Most of all, no one knows how she truly feels about herself, except me, because guess what? That girl staring in the mirror, looking as if she's about to cry, is _me_.

This feeling started two years ago, when Molly Garfunkel, the second Perf in command, found me. We were sitting down in study hall together. We ended up talking and became friends. She invited me to join the Perfs with Kacey Simon. At that time, I didn't know what was going to happen by becoming a Perf. Now I know.

By becoming a Perf, I had to change myself completely. Instead of wearing cute reading glasses, I had to put on contact lenses. I spent hundreds of dollars on designer clothes, accessories, and makeup. I hid my geeky Grace and replaced her with Perfy Grace. The new Grace had to give up her nerdy side publicly. At home, I could be the smart Grace I knew and loved.

As I look at myself in the mirror, I can only see the stranger I had become. My wavy blonde hair fell past my shoulders. The cute white dress I had on with a matching pink sweater didn't have a single wrinkle. The makeup on my face didn't have a smudge. There was no blemish or a zit in sight. I smiled at the flawless stranger in the mirror. She smiled back. I looked into her eyes and saw a world of pain that no one would notice. My mind played back thousands of memories she's not proud of. Those days she made fun of people who wanted to be her friend or those assignments and tests that were marked with a huge undeniable F. A single tear rolled down both of our faces as our smiles turned into a saddened look. I tried smiling again. I wanted to feel happy, but nothing was working. I immediately ran into a bathroom stall and cried my eyes out. I screamed hoping that someone would hear me and save me from the monster I've become. But no one came.

I leaned against the toilet and stared at my reflection in the water. It was the stranger again except her makeup smeared against her cheeks. That stranger looked anything but perfect. I could only think about who I became.

Who's Grace King and where did she go?


End file.
